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bradygirl_12Title: Sparkling Stars VIII: Punishment (1/1)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Christy/Virgil, Lester Gruber, Quinton McHale, Chuck Parker, Joseph 'Happy' Haines, Willy Moss, Harrison 'Tinker' Bell
Fandom: McHale's Navy
Genres: Angst, Drama, Historical
Rating: R
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Why is Virgil being dragged down to the whipping post?
Date Of Completion: September 8, 2022
Date Of Posting: September 27 2022
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1642
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
The entire series can be found here.
Barbed hooks,
Fragile flesh,
Stretched taut,
Suspended
In a world
Of pain.
Unknown Slave
"A Bitter Compilation"
1922 C.E.
The sun's rays poured down on McHale's Island. The crew of the PT-73 griped and groaned as they slogged through their chores. Everyone was cranky and tired from a string of night patrols.
Virgil grunted as he swung his ax down to split a log, jarring already sore muscles. He pulled the ax out and tried another swing.
He wiped his brow with his arm. He should have worn shorts instead of his uniform pants. At least he was smart enough to go shirtless.
A hand landed on his arm and Virgil pushed it away. "Leave me alone!" he snapped.
The slap he received was a hard one, not a love tap. He fell to the hard ground, the breath knocked out of him.
His irritation turned to panic as he realized what he'd just done.
Oh, no!
Through his blurred vision he could see Gruber standing over him. Virgil ignored his throbbing face and scrambled to his knees.
"I'm sorry; I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Please forgive me, Lester...Master!"
Lester could report him to the Skipper, and even petition to wield the whip down at the whipping post. Spurning a Master's desire, tired or not, was a punishable offense, the greatest sin, and not delivered by the pleasure whip. Even with the Skipper's whipmaster skills, the punishment whip would hurt!
"Please, Master, I beg forgiveness." Virgil crawled forward, frantically grabbing Gruber's pant leg. His heart pounded as he looked up. His mind flashed back to his early days with the crew several months ago...
& & & & & &
"Skipper, please, I don't understand. I've been good."
McHale tugged on Virgil's collar chain as they headed for the whipping post. Virgil was naked, his arms chained behind his back. His nerves were jangled, confused at this sudden turn of events. He was sure he hadn't done anything worthy of the punishment whip.
"Hush up," McHale snapped. He never said "Shut up" to Virgil, using this expression instead.
Virgil obeyed, upset at this capriciousness. He had been increasing his trust in this bombastic man who had been fair to him, but how fair was it to whip him with no explanation?
I must be crazy to trust.
"Damned eightballs," McHale muttered. "I told them not to try that crazy scheme Gruber cooked up. They'll end up in Portsmouth Prison one of these days. They know Binghamton is out to get 'em, but they're dumb enough to keep gettin' involved in these things. I gotta teach 'em a lesson!"
McHale tugged on the chain and Virgil almost lost his balance.
The parade ground was hard-packed dirt with the whipping post at the far end. Wooden bleachers were set up with a good view of the post. The crew was already seated on the bleachers, and their idle chatter stopped as McHale and Virgil appeared. McHale saw that he had their attention. He dragged Virgil to the whipping post and chained his wrists and ankles so that he was spread-eagled. The chains' rattles were a painful memory for Virgil.
During their trek to the parade ground, Virgil had tried to ignore the large whip McHale was carrying. It was far bigger than a pleasure whip. Punishment whips were made strictly for pain.
The sun beat relentlessly down on the parade ground. Virgil tried to breathe, desperate to push away the memories of his last punishment whipping. The brothel whipmaster had been skilled, but it had hurt like hell. He bit back a sob as he waited, trying to still his trembling.
"They wouldn't like life in Portsmouth. Neither would you," McHale muttered as if to himself, but Virgil realized the words were directed at him. "Don't hold back."
"I..." Virgil choked back a scream as the first blow landed with a ferocity he hadn't expected. His body jerked and he heard gasps of surprise from his crewmates.
"You guys want to ignore my orders, fine, but somebody has to pay for your stupidity. Looks like Virgil's elected."
Virgil gasped as a second blow tore at his skin. He couldn't believe this. He was a literal whipping boy!
The Skip is worried that we'll end up in prison if we keep following Lester's crazy schemes.
The blows were quick, radiating from his back to his shoulders, his arms stretched too tightly. Panic started rising as memories from the brothel spilled over and confused him. "We'll whip you raw," the Brothel Master whispered in his ear.
"No, please," he whispered back. "I've been good."
The next blow brought tears to his eyes. He could see his crewmates were restless. Christy looked ready to leap off the bleachers. Virgil struggled to remain upright as he sagged in his bonds. His back was burning.
McHale muttered, "Stubborn eightballs. Well, Virg, I won't insult you by saying this will hurt me more than it will you, but..."
This rime Virgil screamed, the lash tearing away at fragile skin.
Christy jumped up. "Skip, stop! Let me take his place!"
The other men shouted for McHale to stop. Even Gruber, who had sat apart from them, demanded an end to the whipping.
McHale lowered the punishment whip. "Just remember, someone always pays." He caressed Virgil's back. "Get him some aftercare." He stalked back to camp.
Christy was first off the bleachers and immediately took charge. Chuck went ahead to the slave hut. The men unchained a trembling Virgil and carried him to the hut as he tried to suppress his whimpers. They rained down apologies as his back throbbed. He cried quietly, the FH carrier's tendency to cry more easily than a normal man on full display to his stricken crewmates.
He was laid out on his stomach on the bed in the slave hut. Mr. Parker had taken out the healing creams and the first order of business was cleansing the wounds. Virgil hissed in pain and grasped Christy's hand.
"Please hurry, Mr. Parker," Christy said.
"We gotta make sure he's thoroughly cleansed. Don't want any infection." Mr. Parker's touch was gentle. "Okay, he's ready."
Virgil was grateful that some obscure scientist had discovered cream that not only healed whip wounds but was able to smooth away scars. His back would have been a mess from his punishment whipping in the brothel.
He remembered waiting hours for aftercare there as a doctor had to come to the brothel at the end of his hospital shift. His back had burned, his fears making it worse. After twenty-four hours without aftercare, he would scar. Here, the aftercare was immediate.
More than one set of hands applied the cream. Christy applied with one hand while still holding Virgil's hand with the other. Mr. Parker, Happy and Willy were the other caretakers. The pain wasn't as sharp-edged under the cooling cream but it still hurt. He whimpered quietly.
"Why would the Skip do this?" asked Tinker.
"I'm going to talk to him. Tink, take over for me," said Mr. Parker.
Virgil made a little noise as Christy tried to release his hand. The blond leaned down and said, "Don't worry, I'm just going to get more cream."
"I'll get it, Christy," Willy said.
"Thanks, Willy." Christy squeezed Virgil's hand.
The aftercare took a little longer, Virgil relaxing slightly. His friends' hands were gentle and Christy murmured soothing nonsense. The prompt aftercare cut down on the pain, but he would still feel it for a few days.
Mr. Parker returned. "You guys heard the Skipper during the whipping. Virgil was taking our punishment."
"That isn't fair," said Happy.
"No, but you guys wouldn't like it in Portsmouth. And if you involve Virgil, he'll suffer, too. Think of him in prison." He placed a hand on Virgil's shoulder.
"Where's Gruber?" Christy asked suddenly.
"Outside," Tinker replied.
Christy pulled away from Virgil's grasp. He immediately stroked Virgil's hair. "Be right back."
Christy left the hut and called out to Gruber. Tinker followed him outside.
"Gruber, we're all to blame, following along with your latest money- making scheme, but if you ever put us in danger and Virgil ends up down at that whipping post again, I will personally punch you in the nose!"
"That's our Christy," said Willy, amusement in his voice.
Virgil felt pride in Christy's possessiveness. It was almost worth the whipping to hear that.
Christy stomped back into the hut, took Virgil's hand, and told him to rest.
& & & & & &
Virgil stared up at Lester, his heart racing. The blond man was looking down at Virgil and shook his head.
"You suffered for our sins already at the whipping post. I'm not reporting this. The heat is driving us all crazy. You lost your head. Don't worry about it."
Virgil blinked. "M...Master?" His hand was still clutching Lester's pants leg. His next instinct was to kiss the other man's shoes in gratitude in the proper way.
Instead Lester helped him to his feet and caressed a bare shoulder. "I wasn't angling for a roll in the hay."
"We have no hay," Virgil rasped.
"How about a roll in the underbrush?"
"Too prickly."
"Ah, yes, I can see." Lester squeezed Virgil's shoulder, then gently touched his face. "Get back to work."
Virgil turned his head and kissed the palm of Lester's cradling hand. Lester withdrew his hand and walked away. Virgil felt dizzy with relief. Was he crazy or what?
I guess that long-ago punishment paid off.
Virgil shivered despite the heat. Lester had given him a gift. If the torpedoman had reported Virgil's major mistake, the Skipper would have had to punishment whip him. Virgil knew better, and he had to face the consequences. The Skipper had to maintain discipline.
Relieved, Virgil went back to work as he mentally kicked himself, absently rubbing his back
Crossposts: https://bradygirl-12.livejournal.com/1537095.html.
This story can also be read on AO3.
